


Leave you black and blue

by marginalia



Series: Marauder Rhombus [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, marauder rhombus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-10
Updated: 2004-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-04 00:59:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10263389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/pseuds/marginalia





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Symptoms of Touring](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/273926) by belovedsnail. 



Remus kept forgetting what town they were in, but as it wasn't his job to yell "How are you feeling tonight, Ingary?" he decided not to worry about it. Tonight he had enough to think about. James was half naked on stage and Remus was busy not watching Sirius, because he'd rather not know if Sirius was watching James writhe against the mic stand or the drummer from the opening band matching him move for move at the front of the stage.

The crowd was screaming and it was just one of those nights, so Remus let the energy wash over him until the show ended and the girls with the signs and the hearts descended on them at the bar. Well, maybe they didn't have signs. But they were definitely the type, and if the band was playing another night here there would be girls in glitter and tight tops all out there sparkling, catching Sirius's eye, making him toss his hair and smile, because he knew, he fucking knew.

There were enough girls as it is; the opening band seemed to have drawn half of the town's underage females and Remus thought that if bookings were up to him there would be no more all-ages shows. Of course, that would just be delaying the inevitable.

Remus definitely was not watching Sirius brushing elbows with James as they signed fliers after the show for girls wearing not enough clothes and too much hairspray. He was standing back in the shadows, smoking, because he felt like he should be there, but the noise was getting to be too much. He was pleased to see Peter talking to a girl with spiky hair, but he didn't have the heart to tell him that she was probably not terribly interested in boys. For one passive-aggressive moment he considered fleeing to the motel and bed, but that just screamed drama, and Remus did not scream.

He was about to light another cigarette when the bass player from the opening band approached. "Dana," she said, presenting her hand.

"Remus," he answered, taking it, and was surprised to be pulled into a quick hug, a real hug, with her rising on tiptoe, meeting him cheek to cheek, with her breasts pressed tight to his chest, not the awkward A-frame hug his girl cousins tended to give but a hug like she meant it.

She bummed a cigarette, and quickly distracted him with conversation about the bass, about the crowd, and about their respective bands. "Are you hungry?" she said, out of the blue. Then, off his look, "That's not a line. It's just, I have the car, I'm kind of tired of being here, and when we have late shows my mum keeps dinner warm for me. Besides," she glanced at her feet. "She's probably still waiting up to hear how the show went."

Remus laughed. "They probably won't notice I'm missing til one. But don't you think this is a little fast, meeting the parents?" She answered him with a swat on the arm, and then she was tugging him towards the exit. There was plenty of room in the backseat for their basses, and she drove with the cautiousness of a recent license. He had a clear image of her mother already, from the sedan itself to the "Thank You For Not Smoking" sign glued to the dashboard, and when they arrived at the house he was almost afraid to follow her up the steps.

He needn't have worried. Dana's mum hugged him tight, set him down at the table, and asked nothing of him but that he eat. She and Dana filled the room with conversation, and it was such a refreshing change, family and real food and no demands, that he was finally able to relax in a way he hadn't since the tour began. When Dana's mother said goodnight, Remus thanked her for dinner. "A homecooked meal, you have no idea."

"Not at all. I can just imagine you poor boys, living on breathmints and takeaway," she squeezed his shoulders affectionately and looked pointedly at Dana. "Don't stay up too late, dear."

After she disappeared upstairs, Dana looked at him carefully. "If you were one of my girlfriends, I'd sit you down and do your makeup and make you tell me all about that guitarist." She tilted her head, inspecting him. "You'd be stunning with eyeliner. But somehow I think that trick doesn't work with boys. More's the pity. You have a scar," she added in quite a different tone of voice, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Barfight," he answered truthfully.

"I bet you tell that to all the girls." She offered him a ride back to the motel, but he told her to drop him off a few blocks early. She gave him her phone number and a peck on the cheek. "I know you won't call," she said, "But I'd like to know how it turns out."

Remus raised his hand in a brief wave as she drove away, and then walked towards the motel, thinking about distance and bridging it and the glitter that somehow ended up everywhere. The bedside lamp was still on in their room when he opened the door - using Sirius's trick with the handle - and James and Peter were asleep.

Sirius was sitting at the foot of the bed, blinking up at Remus, still half asleep. Remus stopped in front of him, leaned in to tell him, "You should have taken the bed, Sirius." It felt brave in the half-light, like getting Sirius into the bed would be one step. One change. But Sirius reached for his wrist before he could speak, fingerprints burning into Remus's skin, and whispersang a serenade, "And I can't help thinking that it might be, / I might be / In love..."

Remus froze. It was a leap, it was all wrong, it was a trap and if he said the wrong thing James and Peter would be awake and laughing and. He felt ill. He cast around and saw the empty bottle, flung _drunk_ in Sirius's face in self-defense, and took the bed as Sirius lay down on the floor.

Remus's lies were always wishes, and maybe if he said it enough, said that Sirius was drunk and didn't know what he was singing . .or to who . .then it would be all right. Sirius burned too bright, and Remus was drawn to the flame, hovering outside and avoiding destruction.

The words were too sharp, so he threw a pillow down to Sirius to soften them, then lit a cigarette and waited for morning.


End file.
